


to show you my love

by labeautelivresque



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anxiety Attacks, Damen runs a gaming channel, Everything with the Regent is in the past, Fluff, Laurent is Nicaise's guardian, Laurent is a booktuber, Light Angst, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Nicaise is Laurent's brother, POV Alternating, POV Damen (Captive Prince), POV Jord, POV Laurent (Captive Prince), POV Nicaise (Captive Prince), POV Third Person Limited, Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Youtuber AU, the usual themes from the novels apply
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2018-11-05 11:26:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11012475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/labeautelivresque/pseuds/labeautelivresque
Summary: Modern YouTube AU ~ Damen runs a successful gaming channel on YouTube. On his own channel, Laurent reviews books - or, rather, he tears them apart. Thanks to Nikandros divulging details of Damen's past romantic exploits on stream, fans of both channels begin to ship him with Laurent, despite the two having never met.Nicaise decides to play matchmaker.





	1. I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to thank everyone over on Twitter for encouraging me to write this. Y'all are the best!
> 
> I'm not sure how long it's going to end up being. It'll be at least five chapters, but probably longer. This is the first long piece I've written in who _knows_ how long. I'll try to update as quickly as possible.

 

            The lights flickered on, and when Laurent turned his head, Nicaise was standing in the doorway in his robe, a large bowl of chips and two sodas balanced precariously in his arms. “What’s wrong?” he asked, blowing a strand of dark hair out of his eyes. His tone made it evident that he knew exactly what was wrong, but wanted to hear Laurent say it aloud. He shouldn’t have been out of bed, but Laurent had apparently overestimated his own ability to be discreet when sneaking downstairs at two in the morning. When he didn’t reply, Nicaise huffed and began his perilous trek across the hardwood floor, careful not to drop anything.

            “You have school in the morning,” said Laurent, as his brother settled down beside him on the sofa. Nicaise didn’t acknowledge his words; instead, he tugged at the fleece throw hung across the back of the couch, and draped it over the both of them. Despite being early March, it was still a little chilly outside. Snow had been in the forecast earlier that week, though it had thankfully been incorrect.

            Nicaise shoved a can of Vanilla Coke into Laurent’s hand. “I’ll survive,” he said. He fell silent for a moment, the only sound in the room the tell-tale fizz of their sodas opening. He watched Laurent carefully, refusing to look away until his brother took a sip of his drink and snagged a couple of chips. Even then, Nicaise hardly looked satisfied. “You skipped dinner.”

            “I wasn’t hungry.”

            “I know.”

            In most cases, Laurent was fond of silence. In this case, it was deafening. Neither of them wanted to address the elephant in the room. Neither of them wanted to be the first to acknowledge that it had been six years since they’d lost their family. In lieu of speech, Nicaise reached for the remote control and turned on the television. He had a feeling that neither of them would be sleeping tonight – Laurent, because he would find it impossible; Nicaise, because he couldn’t stand to leave his brother on his own.  

            He flipped through the channels, not looking for anything in particular (although he wasn’t much in the mood to watch paid programming). He landed on what appeared to be the tail-end of _Return of the Jedi_. At that time of night, he probably wouldn’t have found anything better. It would suffice. “Want more chips?” he asked, holding out the bowl. Laurent shook his head. While he’d been fixated on the television, it seemed that his brother had abandoned his soda on the floor at his feet. Nicaise noticed, but said nothing. It was a miracle that he’d managed to entice him to take the few sips he had; downing the whole can was more than he’d expected.

            “You don’t have to stay up.”

            Nicaise didn’t have to look at Laurent to hear the unspoken words that lingered between them: _But I’m glad you are._ He placed the bowl on the floor beside Laurent’s soda and, careful not to spill his own, shifted so that he was pressed snugly to his brother’s side. “Can I stay home tomorrow? I don’t…” He trailed off. He and Laurent both had a way with words – in _all_ matters, but those of the heart. The sentiments struggled on his tongue. “I just – I don’t want to leave you here alone.”

            “Won’t that ruin the perfect attendance streak you’re so proud of?”

            Nicaise scowled. “You’re the one who’s proud of that. I couldn’t give two fucks about it.”

            It spoke to how miserable Laurent was feeling that he didn’t admonish Nicaise for his language. He didn’t _care_ , really, but he usually tried his best to at least _pretend_ to be a responsible parental figure. “If I send you to school, you’ll just find a way home, won’t you?”

            “Yup.”

            “Fine.”

            That had been easier than Nicaise had anticipated and, honestly, that worried him. “Laurent…”

            “Are you just going to talk through the entire movie? If so, I hardly see why you bothered to turn it on.”

            Nicaise took that as his cue to shut up. If Laurent wanted to talk, he would; trying to force him had never worked out in Nicaise’s favor. The boy finished the last of his soda and carelessly tossed it aside, which earned him a grunt of annoyance from Laurent, but still no reprimand. If not for the circumstances, Nicaise might have tried to see just how far he could push his brother before he snapped. As they were, he’d seldom felt _less_ inclined to make Laurent’s life difficult.

            Truth be told, Nicaise wasn’t much of a _Star Wars_ fan. That, combined with the fact that he was already drowsy (he’d been sound asleep when Laurent’s late-night journey to the living room had startled him into consciousness), left him snoring against Laurent in a matter of minutes.

            When he woke again, the television had been turned off and the digital clock on the opposite wall read _3:25_. At some point, Laurent had wrapped an arm tightly around Nicaise’s shoulders; he probably wouldn’t have been able to shrug him off, even if he’d tried. For once, Nicaise didn’t try. Laurent himself was still wide awake. Nicaise would have expected nothing less.

            “Go back to sleep, Nicaise,” came his brother’s soft voice.

            “You should sleep, too,” Nicaise argued. “This isn’t healthy.” When Laurent didn’t so much as acknowledge that he’d spoken, Nicaise grew more daring. He could appreciate the irony of what he was about to say – after all, just an hour ago, he’d decided _against_ saying it. “Laurent, he…”

            He felt his brother tense.

            “He wouldn’t have wanted this.” Nicaise had been so young when Auguste and their parents had died that he hardly remembered Auguste; at twenty-five, he hadn’t been around as often during Nicaise’s childhood as he’d been during Laurent’s. But, from what little he _did_ remember, and from what Laurent had told him of their elder brother, he knew without a doubt that Auguste wouldn’t have approved of Laurent’s coping methods.

            “Go back to sleep, Nicaise.”

            “He’d want you to be happy,” he persisted. “He wouldn’t want you to—.”

            “Auguste wouldn’t have wanted a lot of things.” The words were sharp as a knife. “It doesn’t matter what he would or wouldn’t have wanted. He’s dead. Go back to sleep.”

            “You still have one brother, you know,” Nicaise said hotly, “and he _worries_ about you, asshole.” For a moment, he thought that Laurent was going to ignore him again. Instead, his brother heaved a sigh, shoulders slumping. He said nothing, but Nicaise could at least be assured that he was listening – and, that he wasn’t going to interrupt. His fleeting anger dissipated; in its place, guilt flared. He shouldn’t have lost his temper, especially given the date. “…I want you to be happy, too.” 

            “I don’t know if I can, Nicaise. I’m not sure that I know _how_.” He’d never said it aloud before; the admission felt heavy on his tongue.

            “That’s not true,” Nicaise reasoned, his voice dripping with all of the wisdom a thirteen-year-old could possess. “You like making your videos.” He paused, seemingly deep in thought. “Speaking of, you haven’t posted one in over a week. That’s what we can do tomorrow!”

            “We?” Laurent raised an eyebrow.

            “What, you don’t think your subscribers would be interested to see me?”

            When his brother failed to respond, Nicaise knew that he’d won. He could tell, however, that it would be up to _him_ to plan the video. Laurent clearly wasn’t feeling up to snuff.

            Nicaise still wasn’t entirely sure how Laurent’s YouTube channel had come into being. Ever since he was a child, he’d been more prone to spending the day reading than playing video games, or watching television. He’d never shown the slightest interest in YouTube – and then, shortly after the trial that had finally rid them of their uncle, Nicaise had walked in on Laurent angrily waving a copy of _Fifty Shades of Grey_ in front of his webcam. The channel’s theme, at least, Nicaise could understand.

            Book reviews were Laurent’s forte, if one could even call his videos _reviews_. Most of them involved Laurent reading passages aloud in his characteristically dry, sarcastic tone, and fixing the camera with _Office_ -worthy stares; that was his appeal. Viewers loved to watch him tear (sometimes _literally_ ) horrible novels to shreds. His brother had a high standard to which he held literature, and Nicaise could count on one hand the number of times a subscriber had recommended that he read a book he actually liked.

 _Whatever_ it was that had driven his brother to start YouTube, Nicaise was grateful for it. It’d been good for him. Nicaise couldn’t lie – he still worried about his brother, especially at this time of year, but _nothing_ compared to the period preceding and during the trial. It’d been difficult on both of them, of course, but Laurent most of all. He’d been a nervous wreck. Even now, he didn’t sleep as often as he should, and there were times when Nicaise had to all but force food down his throat – but, he remembered the countless mornings he’d come downstairs to find his brother pacing the kitchen floor, still wearing his clothes from the day before. Laurent had a poker face that could have beaten out Laurence Olivier for an Oscar; he’d hidden his exhaustion behind icy glares, his anxiety behind callous words. Nobody but Nicaise, who knew his brother as well as he knew himself, had been able to see past the façade.

            So, Laurent could pretend all he wanted, but Nicaise knew the truth. He’d rarely seen his brother happier than he was while on camera.

            “We could read fairy tales,” he suggested lightly. “They’re so fucked up. Your subscribers will _love it_.”

            “Maybe,” said Laurent. “Go to sleep.”

            The next time Nicaise awoke, it was after nine o’clock and sunlight was streaming in through the windows. Sometime during the night, Laurent had left the couch. Nicaise was alone, head cushioned on a slightly-lumpy pillow that his brother had found in the hall closet, and comfortably wrapped up in the blanket they’d been sharing. He sat up, stretching. “Laurent?”

            “In the kitchen.”

            Nicaise traipsed into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Do you think,” asked Laurent, who was stirring the sugar into his tea, “I could persuade Paschal to sign a doctor’s note for you?”

            “I don’t doubt that you could, but I don’t _need_ a note.”

            He sat down at the table across from his brother, who slid a plate of bacon and scrambled eggs over to him. Nicaise hesitated. He didn’t see a second plate, or any leftovers. He wasn’t about to scarf this down if Laurent had neglected to prepare anything for himself. “Did you eat?”

            “You’re not my mother.”

            “Did you eat?” he repeated.

            “I ate enough.” Nicaise had the good sense not to push him any further.

            “So, did you think about my idea?”

            Laurent sipped gingerly at his tea. Nicaise interpreted that as a _no_. “I’m not going to let you spend the day moping,” he said sternly. “We’re making a video. That’s final.”

            His brother sighed, but refrained from arguing. Small victories, Nicaise supposed, but it didn’t feel much like a victory when Laurent looked so despondent. “Are you sure you don’t want a piece of bacon?” he asked softly. Laurent shook his head. “Alright.” He picked at his food, but he’d seemed to have lost his own appetite. He seldom looked away from Laurent, who, in turn, seldom let go of his teacup. By the time he’d finished eating, Nicaise suspected that Laurent was only holding the cup to keep his hands from fidgeting. He’d stopped drinking from it ages ago. “Want me to wash that for you?” It wasn’t often that Nicaise voluntarily did the dishes, but he had a feeling that Laurent and _chores_ were going to be incompatible today.

            “I’ve got it,” muttered his brother, rising to his feet and snatching Nicaise’s plate out of his hand. He moved to the sink, much to Nicaise’s surprise. Perhaps he’d misjudged the situation, after all. “So,” said Laurent, voice distorted by the running water. “…fairy tales. How fucked up are we talking?”

            Nicaise grinned.

* * *

 

            Two hours later, they were in front of the camera. After introducing himself as Laurent’s younger, better-looking brother (Laurent had stifled his laughter behind his hands), Nicaise had taken it upon himself to read a few stories aloud. Laurent was doing what Laurent did best – losing his shit.

            “Didn’t you say that she was _seven_?” he demanded, holding out his hand. “Let me see that.” Nicaise leaned back in his chair, holding the book just out of his brother’s reach.

            “She _is_ seven,” he clarified. “I told you, these stories are fucked up.”

            “Why does this prince want to buy a seven-year-old’s _corpse_? What does he plan on doing with it?”

            “An excellent question.”

            “Alright, you little smart-ass, keep reading.” Nicaise hardly minded the insult; it meant that Laurent was beginning to feel like his usual self again. Truth be told, the strange, subdued Laurent of the previous night had been disconcerting. There wasn’t much left of the story; no sooner had he finished than Laurent snatched the book away and flipped haphazardly through the pages, eyes scanning over them as though he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “I thought you’d made it up. They… drop her corpse. _Really_?”

            Nicaise scoffed. “That’s not even the weirdest story.”

            Over the course of an hour, Nicaise introduced Laurent to _The Juniper Tree_ (“What the _fuck_?”), _Trusty John_ (“No, seriously, what the fuck?”), and _How Some Children Played at Slaughtering_ (“…is there even a moral to this one?”). Laurent was enjoying himself so much that it was almost a shame to stop recording, but Nicaise could only read aloud for so long before he started to lose his voice.

            “So, what I’ve learned from this,” said Laurent, pulling up the footage in iMovie, “is that it’s not a fairy tale unless child abuse is involved.”

            “That’s a fair assumption,” Nicaise agreed, tossing the book onto Laurent’s bed. “Can I edit the video?”

            Laurent hesitated. The last time he’d allowed Nicaise to edit one of his videos, he’d gone _way_ overboard with the special effects. Laurent had ended up editing it himself, and as a result, it’d been posted much later than he’d intended. Then again, Nicaise had managed to do the impossible: he’d cheered Laurent up, if only for a little while. He deserved some sort of reward for his effort. “Take it easy on the SFX,” he said, ruffling his brother’s hair as he moved to go. He’d expected Nicaise to yell at him for it; he lingered in the doorway in anticipation of an outburst that, to his astonishment, never came.

            “Love you, too,” said Nicaise, without looking away from the screen. Laurent’s lips quirked into a smile.

 

**READING FAIRY TALES – FT. MY LITTLE BROTHER**

**40,361 VIEWS**

 

**5,773 comments**

            “That’s pretty impressive,” said Nicaise. He was eating a bowl of Fruit Loops as he scrolled through the comments on the video. He’d succeeded in convincing his brother to have a bowl, too. Laurent was in a considerably better mood than he had been that morning. “Forty-thousand views in just a few hours? You should let me be in the videos more often.”

            “What makes you think that it has _anything_ to do with you?”

            Nicaise stuck out his tongue. “The comments. Listen: ‘ _Your little brother is adorable! Is he going to show up again?_ ’ ‘ _Can I adopt your brother? He’s precious._ ’ ‘ _Seeing you with your brother just made you 20x more attractive to me._ ’ See?”

            “Careful, or I may take that second person up on their offer.”

            “You wouldn’t.”

            Laurent rolled his eyes. “No, I wouldn’t.” He poured some more cereal into his bowl. His appetite had returned with a vengeance. “Comments about your _questionable_ cuteness aside” – he smirked – “what are people saying?”

            “Um… ‘ _What the fuck?_ ’ ‘ _What the fuck?_ ’ ‘ _What the fuck?_ ’ A lot of that.”

            “Obviously.”

            “Most people hadn’t heard those stories before. Not surprising. You hadn’t even heard them before, and all you fucking _do_ is read.” Laurent would have refuted that if he’d been able, but Nicaise had a valid point. “Um – oh, this person wants to know if you know Damen.”

            Laurent stared at his brother quizzically, waiting for him to tack on something else to that sentence – something that might help him figure out just who the hell _Damen_ was, and why he might know him. Nicaise, who was mid-bite of Fruit Loops, dropped his spoon.

            “How are you a YouTuber and you’ve never heard of Damen?” he asked, disbelieving. Laurent wasn’t particularly _social_ with other YouTubers. He’d never done any collaborations, although several content creators had expressed interest in doing so. His aloofness was part of his appeal, or so he claimed. Even so, Nicaise couldn’t imagine that he’d been posting videos for close to two years and had never come across Damen. “He’s really popular? Runs a gaming channel?”

            “That would be why I’ve never heard of him.”

            “…right.” He looked back to the comment; there were several replies, all seconding the question. _Weird_. “I don’t understand why they think you’d know him. You don’t even _like_ video games.” Laurent shrugged. This was far from the strangest comment he’d seen on one of his videos. He wasn’t going to complain.

            “Wait. _Holy shit_ , there’s another one.” Nicaise cleared his throat, reading the comment in question in a high, over-dramatic voice that had Laurent choking on his cereal: “‘ _Show of hands, who wants to see Laurent and Damen co-parent Nicaise?_ ’”

            Alright. _That_ took the prize as the strangest comment Laurent had ever seen on one of his videos.

            “Dare I ask how many up-votes that comment has?”

            “…you don’t want to know.” Nicaise was trying (and failing _miserably_ ) not to laugh. “These people are shipping you with Damen.”

            “I don’t even _know_ Damen.”

            “As if that matters. It’s the Internet, Laurent.” Nicaise quickly exited out of Laurent’s video and pulled up a channel that he actually _did_ watch semi-regularly. Honestly, he was convinced that everyone in the world had seen at least one of Damen’s videos – everyone but his brother, apparently. “This is Damen,” he said, sliding his phone across the table.

 

**[LIVE] MARIO KART 8 DELUXE W/ DAKIELOSGAMING FT. NIKANDROS**

**12,887 VIEWS**

**2,127 comments**

“DAkielosGaming,” Laurent read aloud. “Not the name I would have chosen.”

            “His two hundred thousand subscribers don’t seem to care,” Nicaise pointed out. “Maybe you should ask him to rebrand you. You’ve been sitting at one hundred thousand for months.”  

            “Have you already forgotten that I don’t know this man at all?” And then, not a minute later: “Who is Nikandros?”

            “His best friend.” Nicaise dragged his chair around the table, positioning himself beside Laurent so he could see the screen. “He comes to the streams a lot.”

            Laurent had very little interest in _Mario Kart_. He had even less interest in watching somebody else play _Mario Kart_. Frankly, he had never been able to understand how gaming channels became popular – that is, until he pressed _play_ , and saw Damen for the first time. He was painfully aware that his very perceptive younger brother was sitting right next to him; he tried his best to keep his expression neutral.

            Damen was, to put it bluntly, gorgeous. It was difficult to tell while he was seated, but Laurent estimated that Damen was almost a foot taller than him – and Laurent was _hardly_ short. He was muscular, too, and clearly unafraid to show it off; he was, appropriately, wearing a tight-fitting _Super Mario_ t-shirt that made his biceps extremely noticeable. He was dark-skinned with equally dark eyes, and short, wavy brown hair that Laurent, embarrassingly enough, could _easily_ imagine himself running his fingers through.

            He didn’t know Damen, but _fuck_ , he wanted to.

            “Are you _blushing_?” Nicaise’s voice broke through his thoughts. “Oh my God, you _are_.” Laurent couldn’t tell if his brother was amused or traumatized. Maybe a little of both.

            “I am not.”

            “You are.”

            Laurent ignored him and returned his attention to the video. Damen had, apparently, lost the first race to Nikandros; the latter was laughing while Damen, his mouth curled into a pout, proclaimed that this was the last time he was ever playing _Mario Kart_ again.

            “He always says that,” said Nicaise.

            “ _This is just embarrassing_ ,” Damen was saying. “ _I’m the one with the gaming channel, and the only person I’ve ever beaten at Mario Kart is Jokaste._ ”

            “ _I’m pretty sure she let you win,_ ” Nikandros remarked.

            “ _I know she did_.”

            Before the question could even pass his lips, Nicaise was out of his chair and carrying his bowl to the sink. “She’s his ex-girlfriend,” he said, “and I’m going to bed.” There was only so much star-struck Laurent a person could take at one time, and Nicaise had already reached his quota. “Have fun drooling over Damen.”

            “I’m _not_ —.”

            “Goodnight.”

* * *

 

            It rained that night. A crash of thunder woke Nicaise at half-past-three. Unable to fall asleep again, he decided to check on his brother. Laurent had stayed awake for over twenty-four hours; if he wasn’t going to be a responsible adult, Nicaise would play the part _for_ him. As he’d expected, Laurent wasn’t in his bedroom. From the look of things, he hadn’t been there since they’d filmed the video that morning. Sighing, Nicaise padded quietly down the stairs, assuming that he’d find his brother on the sofa again – sitting in total darkness, staring at the wall.

            Laurent wasn’t there.

            From the kitchen, he could hear soft laughter. Laurent was still at the table, the cell phone plugged into the wall beside him, his face illuminated by its light. If he noticed Nicaise standing in the doorway, he didn’t say anything.

            Nicaise didn’t think that he’d noticed.

            He was completely fixated on the video; Nicaise could hear Damen’s familiar voice issuing from the speaker. “ _For fuck’s sake, Nik, couldn’t you let me win? Just once?_ ”

            His brother was smiling – actually smiling – and although Nicaise’s purpose in coming downstairs had been to tell Laurent he needed to sleep, he found that he didn’t have the heart to do it.

            “ _This game hates me. It actually hates me._ ”

            “ _Come on, you know people wouldn’t be half as entertained if you didn’t suck ass. You’re terrible. That’s your appeal._ ”

            Nicaise turned away. He could still hear Laurent’s laughter when he reached the stairs.     

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title references [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P3mU6lXcaKk). 
> 
> If it wasn't obvious, the first fairy tale Nicaise read was _Snow White_. If you've ever read the original story, it's _much_ different than the Disney film ^^
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! As always, a comment/kudos is much appreciated!
> 
> I'll be posting updates/snippets of upcoming chapters to my Twitter, so you can all feel free to follow me [there](http://twitter.com/kath_lightfoot). I'm almost always on, screaming over Capri or YOI or one of my dozens of other fandoms.


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter: Damen pines. Nicaise meddles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank _everyone_ for the response to the first chapter! Y'all have blown me away with the thoughtful messages. I also want to thank HalcyonMorning on Twitter for the [fanart](https://twitter.com/HalcyonMorning/status/869394169218961408) they made based on the story. I hope you enjoy the second chapter!

            “This is getting ridiculous,” Nicaise declared, dropping his backpack onto the floor beside the sofa. Under normal circumstances, Laurent would have told him to _pick it up, you weren’t raised in a barn, put it in your room for fuck’s sake._ There were few things his brother was more passionate about than keeping a reasonably tidy house. Nicaise thought that he was, for whatever reason, equating cleanliness with good parenting.

            For nearly a week, however, the _only_ thing Laurent seemed to care about was Damen. Nicaise had never seen him like this before – he seemed intent on watching _every_ minute of footage on Damen’s channel. The night before, Nicaise had caught him watching a livestream while he did the laundry. He’d nearly dropped his phone into the washing machine in the process. He supposed he should be grateful that his brother had found something to distract himself from his seasonal depression (and he _was_ ), but he was almost at his wit’s end.  

            He wondered if Laurent had talked to Jord about this. He doubted it. Jord was the closest thing Laurent had to a best friend, but that didn’t mean that he told him everything. Far from it, in fact.

            Nicaise prided himself on being his brother’s closest confidante, and even _he_ didn’t entirely understand his thought processes sometimes.

            Regardless, Nicaise was on the verge of calling Jord himself and staging an intervention for his brother. He could handle being ignored at dinner. He could handle having to repeat himself a dozen times because Laurent was too distracted to listen to what he was saying. He could even handle waking up in the middle of the night to his brother’s laughter resonating from down the hall, but he’d just ridden a school bus home for the first time in years, and he wasn’t keen on doing it again. “You must have watched every one of his videos a hundred times by now.”

            “I haven’t watched _all_ of them.”

            “I was exaggerating, asshole,” Nicaise said sourly. “Are you ever going to, y’know… _talk to him_?” He wasn’t sure that he could take much more of this pining, especially as Laurent refused to admit that he was pining at all. His brother’s infatuation with Damen was going to be the death of him, he was certain of it.

            As far as he could tell, Laurent was going out of his way to ensure that Damen didn’t know he was watching his videos. He never left comments. He wasn’t even subscribed to the channel. Nicaise knew for a fact that he looked at Damen’s Twitter and Instagram accounts on a frequent basis, because he was constantly coming to Nicaise with questions – that, usually, he couldn’t answer. He wasn’t following Damen on either account, however, nor did he like or retweet anything. Nicaise couldn’t understand it. His brother was quite possibly Damen’s biggest fan, and he seemed to be opposed to letting it be known.

            “Look, you’re both popular YouTubers. It wouldn’t be weird for you to say something to him.”

            Laurent completely bypassed everything he’d just said. He probably hadn’t heard. If the sounds coming from his phone were any indication, he was currently invested in watching Damen play _Pokémon_. “This concept seems a bit unethical,” he mused. “Don’t you think? How do the humans know that these creatures _like_ being captured?”

            That was it. Being questioned about the moral implications of _Pokémon_ was where Nicaise drew the line. The next chance he had, he was calling Jord and planning that intervention. “You’re not listening to a word I’ve said.”

            “Of course, I am.” He sounded distracted. On the video, Nicaise could hear Damen giving a short recap of his current team. “I know these Team Plasma people are supposed to be the antagonists, but I think they have the right idea.”

            Nicaise rolled his eyes, reached out, and snatched the phone from his brother’s hands. “Nicaise, what the _fuck_?” And then, as though he was truly _seeing_ him for the first time that afternoon, Laurent’s brow furrowed in confusion. His eyes darted back and forth between Nicaise’s face, and the clock on the wall. Nicaise had known that it was only a matter of time before Laurent realized that he’d forgotten to pick him up from school, but he wasn’t looking forward to what was about to ensue.

            Laurent had always been overprotective of him. It was a trait that, he supposed, ran in their family. The way Laurent spoke, Auguste had been the same. In the months after their family had died, it hadn’t been uncommon for Laurent to invite Nicaise into his bed at night. Neither of them had liked being alone, although they rarely admitted it aloud. They were different from Auguste in that regard, Laurent had told him once. Their elder brother had been an open book.

            They closed themselves off as though their lives depended on it.

            On such nights, Laurent would tell him stories, usually about Auguste and himself. Auguste became something of a fairy tale hero to Nicaise, who had only been seven when the car accident left them orphans.

            He’d met Auguste, of course. He’d always visited on holidays and birthdays. Sometimes, he’d dropped by unexpectedly with gifts for his brothers. He’d always been closest to Laurent, however, despite the gap between their ages.

            Laurent was full of stories.

            Nicaise was positive that he’d made some of them up. Laurent could say what he liked, but the chances of Auguste saving an old woman from a burning building seemed highly incredible. Still, he’d never dream of saying that aloud. He liked the stories, regardless of their truth.

            There were some that had undeniably happened – for example, the time a young Laurent had decided to play hide-and-go-seek with Auguste during a trip to the mall, without informing Auguste that they were playing. After their brother had spent nearly an hour searching for him, he’d been forced to go to the mall security and send out a message over the intercom.

            “ _I felt sorry for doing it_ ,” Laurent had told him. They’d built a blanket fort in his room that night, Nicaise remembered. It’d been storming, and Laurent had hoped to distract him from the thunder.

            “ _Why?_ "

            “ _Auguste was angry. I’d never seen him that angry before. Never at me, at least._ ”

            Nicaise had propped himself up on one elbow, tilting his head quizzically. He’d thought his brother’s antics were funny, himself. He couldn’t understand why Auguste would have been angry. “ _Why was he mad?_ ”

            “ _He was scared, I think. He was worried I’d been kidnapped or something._ ” Laurent paused. “ _I never told him I was sorry.”_ A sudden flash of lightning had sent Nicaise catapulting into his brother’s arms, clinging to him tightly until both of them were half-asleep and the storm was nearly past.

            “ _I bet Mama thought it was funny_ ,” Nicaise had mumbled into Laurent’s shoulder.

            “ _I wish I’d told him I was sorry_ ,” was all Laurent had said.

            So, it could have been simple genetics that made Laurent so staunchly protective of Nicaise, and he of Laurent. It could also have been fear. They were all the other had left. If anything happened to Laurent, Nicaise didn’t know what he would do. There was also a second, darker fear that neither of them would ever dare to verbalize.

            Their uncle was gone. They’d been assured of that.

            It was a hollow comfort. It hadn’t stopped Laurent from adding a second lock to their front door.

            Now, Nicaise believed that he had a pretty good idea of how Auguste had looked when a five-year-old Laurent had decided to hide from him at the mall. Laurent’s face had blanched, his features twisted in mounting horror.

            “Wait, what are you doing home? It’s only…”

            “It’s four-thirty.”

            “You get out of school at three.”

            “Yep.”

            There was a beat of silence. Laurent’s horror quickly shifted into anger. Unlike Auguste, however, Laurent was angry with himself – not with Nicaise.

            “I didn’t pick you up.”

            If it were anyone else, Nicaise might have said something sarcastic in response. As it was his brother, he stayed silent. Nothing he could say would make things better when Laurent was so beside himself. Honestly, he was beginning to regret having distracted Laurent from his phone.

            “ _Please_ tell me you didn’t walk all the way home.”

            “Laurent,” Nicaise began, hoping to curb his brother’s panic before he _really_ got himself worked up. That went about as well as expected. Laurent cut him off before he could say another word.

            “Why didn’t you call me? Something could have _happened_ to you!”

            “Laurent.”

            “I can’t believe I – I lost track of time. You could have been kidnapped or – _fuck,_ I’m a terrible brother.” He carded his fingers through his hair, one of his many anxious habits.

            “Laurent.”

            “How long did you wait for me before you realized I wasn’t coming?”

            “Laurent.”

            “Why the _fuck_ didn’t you call? I had my phone with me the whole time.”

            “Laurent.”

            “I wouldn’t have ignored you if you’d called.”

            “ _Laurent_.”

            Nicaise did the only thing he could think _to_ do, and wrapped his arms tightly around Laurent. He succeeded in stunning him into silence, but a hug wasn’t enough to wipe the misery from his brother’s expression. “You’re normally right on time,” he said calmly. “When I realized you weren’t there, I got on the bus. Okay?” Laurent was staring at him, uncomprehending. Nicaise couldn’t blame him. Even he was having trouble believing that he’d voluntarily gotten onto a school bus. “I didn’t walk. There were no kidnappers. I haven’t been traumatized, and you’re _not_ a terrible brother.”

            At that, Laurent scowled. “Auguste would never have—.”

            “You _aren’t_ Auguste.”

            He had intended the words to be comforting but, if anything, they only served to upset him further. Nicaise almost regretted having said it. “No, I’m not.” He said nothing more, but Nicaise could hear the unspoken, self-deprecating remarks that Laurent was certainly thinking.

            For as long as he could remember, Laurent had done that – compared himself to Auguste as though there were some sort of competition between them that he would _never_ be able to win. Part of it was his own fault. Nicaise, whose knowledge of Auguste was mostly confined to what Laurent told him, could see what Laurent couldn’t: he had idealized their brother in the way that only a younger sibling can.

            Nothing he could ever do would be able to equal the version of Auguste he’d stored in his memory.

            “Look…” Nicaise said, sighing. His prior exasperation had all but vanished. He much preferred a distracted, cheerful Laurent to this. He felt as though he owed Damen Akielos a personal message of thanks for putting an almost permanent smile on his brother’s face.

            He felt as though he deserved a punch to the nose for being the one to remove it.

            “You’re being too hard on yourself.”

            “I don’t think I am.”

            “You’ve been distracted. It’s alright.”

            When Laurent didn’t argue, Nicaise took that as a good sign. Hesitantly, he wrapped his brother in another embrace, prepared to let go immediately should Laurent show any indication of discomfort. Hugs were always kind of hit-or-miss with him. To Nicaise’s overwhelming relief, Laurent returned the embrace, holding him tightly to his chest as though he were half afraid he’d disappear if he let go.

            He probably was afraid of that, honestly, after the events of the afternoon.

            Nicaise wished, now, that he hadn’t taken the bus. Laurent had been right. He should have called, but he’d been so annoyed with his brother for forgetting about him that he’d resolved to take care of matters on his own. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled into Laurent’s shoulder. “If it ever happens again, I’ll call you.”

            “It’s not _going_ to happen again.” There was conviction behind the words – so much so that Nicaise didn’t bother to bring up any _what if_ ’s.

            They both knew that in a few hours’ time, they would begin pretending that this entire conversation had never happened. It wasn’t that any of it was untrue – they just, generally, preferred not to have discussions like this. They didn’t like to be vulnerable, even to one another. Thus, when they were, they rarely brought it up again. If not for that knowledge, Nicaise might not have said what he did next.

            “You know, it’s okay that you aren’t like Auguste.” Laurent tensed, but made no attempt to protest. That gave him the courage to add: “You’ve _always_ been my favorite brother. I think that… well, I think that Damen would like you, too. Why don’t you message him? It can’t hurt to try.”

            Laurent laughed, but there was something melancholy in the sound. It nearly broke Nicaise’s heart. “Why should I?” he asked. “He doesn’t know who I am.”

* * *

 

            _Fuck_.

            It was official: Laurent de Vere was, by far, the most attractive human being Damen had ever had the pleasure to (not) know. He had reached this conclusion following three days of extensive research – that is, watching _every_ video Laurent had uploaded over the past year (which, he thought with some dismay, wasn’t nearly enough). Nikandros was going to flip his shit when he found out about this, and really, it was only a matter of time until that happened.

            It’d been his idea in the first place.

            Well, not really. It _had_ been his idea that Damen find someone new to take his mind off Jokaste, and he _had_ been the one to bring Laurent’s channel to his attention. For over a month, according to Nik, a small portion of his subscribers had been begging for him to collaborate with Laurent. Nik was Damen’s designated PR guy. He received so many comments, tweets, and emails that it would be impossible to read _all_ of them by himself. Usually, Nik would have done his research on Laurent before bringing him up, but apparently, he’d happened across a few comments that had led him to believe that Damen and Laurent might ‘ _make a cute couple_ ’ – at least, so said one of his Twitter followers.

            Damen had a feeling that if Nikandros had actually seen Laurent, he never would have brought those comments up.

            Nik must have been really desperate to get Damen to stop moping around the house, pining after his ex-girlfriend. His plan, however, had unquestionably backfired. Damen was still moping around the house, but now he was pining after Laurent de Vere. He knew it was ridiculous; he’d never seen Laurent in person, let alone exchanged a single word with him. If that wasn’t enough, Laurent likely had no idea who he was. He didn’t strike Damen as the sort of person to _play_ video games, much less watch somebody else play them.

            He couldn’t help but think that he might be able to beat Laurent at _Mario Kart_.

            Damen felt that he’d learned quite a bit about Laurent over the past few days. For example, he knew that Laurent was nineteen years old, very nearly twenty, and that he lived somewhere in Ohio with his little brother. That realization had been encouraging, as Damen lived in Indiana, and should anything ever come of this little preoccupation, it would be easy enough for them to meet.

            He also knew that Laurent had a preference for the color blue. Damen approved of this wholeheartedly. It brought out his eyes. As far as Damen could tell, Laurent rarely wore short sleeves. He’d been wearing sweaters or hoodies in every video he’d watched, and although the camera always cut him off at the waist, Damen could say with certainty that Laurent only ever wore jeans.

            He just didn’t seem the type to wear shorts.

            He knew that Laurent had at least _two_ nervous tendencies. To determine any others, he would need to conduct further research. Throughout his most recent video, Laurent had swept his fingers through his hair at least five times. In another, he’d kept cracking his knuckles.

            Not the most appealing habit, by any means, but Damen could deal with it.

            He knew that Laurent (and his brother, apparently) had a liking for swear words. He’d never heard one person say _fuck_ fifty-two times within ten minutes, but that was before he’d watched Laurent review a bad romance novel that looked as though it’d been purchased at the local drugstore. In fact, he’d be willing to bet all of the money in his bank account that Laurent’s favorite word was _fuck_.

            Speaking of money, he’d also gathered that Laurent was wealthy. He wasn’t sure what had given him that impression, exactly, because Laurent had never explicitly stated it. He supposed it was the way Laurent presented himself – he had a high-and-mighty air to him, as though everyone and everything was just dirt beneath his shoe. He had a way of making every word out of his mouth sound not only important, but completely true.

            Damen didn’t have many opinions about books, but that didn’t matter. Laurent had plenty of opinions and Damen couldn’t fathom disagreeing with any of them.

            After watching fifteen minutes of Laurent explaining why _Of Mice and Men_ was the worst book he’d ever been forced to read in high school, Damen had practically reevaluated his entire existence, wondering how on earth he’d ever enjoyed that book when all of its flaws were now so glaringly obvious to him. 

            Frankly, Laurent could stream himself reading a phone book, and Damen was sure that he would watch every second. There was just something mesmerizing about him. Damen wouldn’t have been able to explain it if he’d tried.

 _God_ , Nikandros was going to have a field day with this.

* * *

 

            “Are you still there?”

            Jord had been silent for so long, Nicaise was beginning to wonder if the call had dropped. “Yeah. Yeah, I am. I just – he has a crush?” He sounded just as incredulous as Nicaise felt. He nodded, forgetting that Jord couldn’t see him. After a moment, Jord continued: “Your brother?” Nicaise had the sense that Jord believed he was playing some kind of elaborate joke on him. “Laurent de Vere? Has a crush? I don’t think he’s had a crush on _anyone_ for as long as I’ve known him.”

            “Well, he does. It’s bad.”

            “He’s going to be angry if he finds out you’ve told me.”

            “Probably.”

            Desperate times had called for desperate measures. After his talk with Laurent that afternoon, Nicaise had come to a conclusion: he didn’t _need_ to stage an intervention. He needed to help his brother spark a friendship with Damen. Laurent clearly wasn’t going to do so on his own.

            “So, is there a _reason_ you told me?”

            “Yes.”

            “…okay, I’ll bite. Why did you tell me?”

            “I have a plan, and I need your help.”

            He had approximately fifteen minutes until Laurent finished preparing dinner, and that was more than enough time to do what he needed to do. His idea was, admittedly, quite simple. He would send Damen an email from Laurent’s work account, introducing himself as his brother and suggesting that they collaborate on a video. Damen _must_ have noticed the comments asking if he’d met Laurent – their mutual subscribers, Nicaise had uncovered, left nearly identical comments on both of their channels. With any luck, he’d take “Laurent” up on the offer, if only to placate the fans.

            “Why do you need _me_ for this?” asked Jord warily, after Nicaise had explained. “Nicaise, do you have any idea how pissed off he’s going to be when he finds out about this?”

            “He’ll thank me, eventually.”

            Jord sighed deeply. “So, _why_ do you need me?”

            “I need his computer password.” Jord had helped Laurent with some technical troubles a few months back; Nicaise _knew_ that he knew what it was.

            “Are you trying to get me killed?” Jord deadpanned.

            “For fuck’s sake, just tell me.”

            As it turned out, Laurent’s password was _Nicaise_. He made a mental note to tease him about it later – honestly, how _embarrassing._ Luckily, Laurent was already logged into his email account (although, Nicaise was a little disappointed that he wouldn’t be able to find out whether his name was Laurent’s password for _that_ , too).

            He must have rewritten the message at least a dozen times before he was satisfied; Nicaise was something of a perfectionist, for as much as he badgered Laurent for sharing the trait. At any rate, this was quite possibly the most important email he’d ever sent. For all he knew, his brother’s entire future depended upon what he had written.

            Crossing his fingers, Nicaise hit _send_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the next chapter: Damen & Laurent speak to one another for the first time. Nikandros regrets his life choices.  
> It'll be primarily in Damen's POV ~
> 
> Thank you so much for reading. As always, a comment/kudos is much appreciated!
> 
> If you'd like to follow me on [Twitter](http://twitter.com/kath_lightfoot), I post updates and snippets from future chapters there. You can also just feel free to DM me to chat, I'm always screaming about Capri or YOI or one of my thousands of other fandoms ^^


	3. III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter: Damen & Laurent speak to each other for the first time. Nikandros regrets his life choices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to apologize for the wait on this chapter. If you follow me on Twitter, you know that I recently got sucked into the Zelda fandom & have spent the past couple of weeks playing _Ocarina of Time_ & _Majora's Mask_. Oops. I promise that the next chapter won't have such a long wait. I'm really excited to write it, too, since it'll include more Damen/Laurent interaction!
> 
> Again, thanks so much for the support on the story! I love y'all! 
> 
> Note: in the texts/Skype messages, **Nikandros is bold** , _Damen is italics_ , & Laurent is in normal text.

            The rest of the day had passed in a bit of a blur.

            Aside from a short break, during which he’d recorded an episode of his _Pokémon Black_ series, Damen had done nothing aside from watch Laurent’s videos. Well, and eat – but he’d watched YouTube _while_ he ate, so it hardly counted.

            The more he saw of Laurent, the more desperately he wanted to talk to him.

            There _had_ to be a reasonable excuse to message him. Usually, he would suggest a collaboration, but considering their vastly different channel themes…

            He doubted Laurent would ever agree to play video games, and Damen just didn’t have the interest in literature to be able to properly review a book, the way Laurent could. Really, he’d be content with just nodding along to everything Laurent said (that was what he did while watching, anyway, even though he hadn’t read most of the books Laurent talked about), but that defeated the point of a collaboration – and, he didn’t want to look like an illiterate idiot in front of Laurent.

            It wasn’t that he didn’t like books. He just had more of an interest in doing other things – like replaying _Ocarina of Time_ for the twentieth time, or having a _Lord of the Rings_ movie marathon with Nikandros. Speaking of, another _Ocarina_ play-through was long overdue…

            In any case, he was probably putting too much thought into this. They were both popular YouTubers. He didn’t _have_ to suggest a collaboration to talk to Laurent. It wouldn’t be weird. Lots of YouTubers were friends. He could just send him a message, compliment his channel, maybe subtly drop his Skype and pray that something came of it.

            He was almost relieved when a text from Nikandros forced him to stop stressing out, if only for a little while.

 

**[7:34] we still streaming mk8 tonight?**

            In all honesty, Damen had completely forgotten that he’d made plans with Nik to stream. Still, it was a good opportunity to tell him about Laurent – he’d find out eventually, after all – and get his opinion on how to proceed. Nikandros would know what to do. He _always_ did.

 

 **[7:35]** _yeah, be over here in half an hour?_

           

            He watched the tell-tale dots dance across the screen, indicating that his friend was typing.

 

**[7:37] you ok? haven’t heard from you much the past few days.**

**[7:37] i know you’re going to argue with me, but she’s not worth all this moping.**

 

            Nikandros wasn’t wrong. Just a week ago, he _would_ have argued. He would have insisted that he’d never find anyone as incredible as Jokaste. He would have lamented that they’d been together for over a year ( _where had he gone wrong?_ ) and he’d expected that they’d be together forever. He would have raged against his brother a fair deal – even if his initial anger towards Kastor had since dulled. He was hurt, more than anything. He couldn’t understand how either of them could have done this to him, least of all his own _brother._

            Nikandros had been understanding at first. He couldn’t blame Damen for being completely beside himself. Anyone would be, if he’d walked in on his brother in bed with his girlfriend. He hadn’t even said, ‘ _I told you so_ ,’ which he would have had every right to say because he _had_ told him so.

            Nikandros had never been a huge fan of Jokaste, and he was even less of a fan of Kastor.

            When Damen had done nothing but mope for a week following the break-up, Nik had accepted it. He’d come over, if only to lend Damen some company. Most of the time, they’d just played video games in silence.

            Still, a week of moping had turned into two, then three, then a month… Nikandros had begun to lose his cool. Damen was almost surprised that Nik hadn’t tried to drag him out on blind dates, although he was sure it would have eventually gotten to that point if his recent obsession with a certain YouTuber hadn’t developed. He was choosing to believe that Nik would be relieved by this change, and after all, it _had_ sort of been Nik’s idea. Damen would never have watched Laurent’s channel if not for Nik bringing those comments to his attention – so, really, if he disapproved, he had no one but himself to blame.

            But there was no denying that Laurent had a physical resemblance to Jokaste – not to mention a few similar personality traits. It was probably why the fans had started shipping the two of them in the first place.

            Laurent was the very definition of Damen’s type.

 

 **[7:38]** _never better_

 **[7:38]** _no, that wasn’t a joke. i’m serious. feeling much better._

**[7:39] did you finally take my advice?**

**[7:40] have you been seeing someone??**

**[7:40] i can’t believe you didn’t tell me wtf???**

Well. Technicall _y_ , he _had_ been seeing someone. Watching him, rather.

 

 **[7:40]** _kind of?_

 **[7:41]** _i’ll tell you all about it later_

He’d told Nikandros to come over in half an hour, but he had a feeling that this revelation would push his arrival time up a bit. Sure enough, less than a minute later, Nik replied that he’d be there in ten. That gave Damen enough time to finish watching the video he’d been in the middle of before Nik had texted.

            He was in the final few seconds of the video when Nik walked into his apartment without knocking (Damen had given him a key years ago, and Nik used it frequently). He eyed him suspiciously from the end of the couch. “What are you watching? You’re making heart eyes at your phone.”

            Damen paused the video and tossed a pillow at Nik’s chest. “Oh, shut up.”

            “Seriously, what are you watching?”

            “You know that guy the fans started… y’know, shipping me with?”

            Nik nodded slowly. Damen could see the gears in his head rapidly spinning – and there was something else there, too. Amusement, maybe. Damen didn’t get a chance to dwell on it for long, because Nik was taking a seat and reaching out to snatch the phone away. “Let me see him.”

            Damen held the phone out of his reach.

            “Come on, I want to see the guy.”

            This was going to end one of two ways, and regardless of which, he knew what Nik’s initial reaction was going to be. He’d hoped to delay it as long as possible. Maybe make an elaborate speech about all of the things he’d learned about Laurent in the past few days, explain why he was so enamored – _god,_ that sounded cheesy – with him, and put Nik in a Laurent-approving mindset before he could get a good look at him.

            His hesitation, however, was the only confirmation Nik needed. He narrowed his eyes, frowning in a way Damen knew all too well. This was his best friend’s ‘ _I’m severely disappointed in you’_ face.

            “…he’s blond, isn’t he?”

            “Well, _yes_ , but—.”

            “ _Damen_.”

            Nik succeeded in grabbing the phone, eyes scanning over the screen in mounting displeasure. “He’s blond, attractive, and… apparently makes snarky book reviews. Wow, I _wonder_ who he reminds me of.” He cast Damen a side-eyed, disapproving look. “I knew I should have looked into him before telling you about those comments.”

            “I don’t _just_ like him because he’s blond. How shallow do you think I am?”

            “It’s just a coincidence, then, that all you’ve done for months is whine about how much you miss Jokaste, and the first person to get your attention looks like _this_?” Nik shoved the phone into Damen’s face, paused on a quite flattering frame of Laurent carding his fingers through his hair, the way Damen had noticed he did when he was nervous. “For fuck’s sake, Damen. When I said to put yourself back out there, this isn’t what I had in mind.”

            “You don’t even know him,” Damen protested. He was fully aware of the irony in that statement.

            “You’re right,” Nik acquiesced. He paused a moment, seemingly thinking things over, before placing the phone back in Damen’s hand. “Maybe I’m jumping to conclusions. Call him right now. I want to talk to him.” Damen faltered. “Okay, what’s your problem? I’m not going to _interrogate_ him, Damen. I just want to talk to him.”

            “You and me both.”

            He wasn’t sure how he’d expected Nikandros to respond to the admittance that he hadn’t actually spoken to Laurent, but falling into a fit of hysterics definitely wasn’t it. “You’re shitting me, right? You can’t be serious?” The questions were posed between bouts of laughter, Nik trying to stifle them by pressing a hand to his mouth. Damen, who appreciated the humor in the situation, couldn’t keep the corners of his own mouth from twitching.

            “I haven’t talked to him. I’ve just… well, look.” He pulled up his YouTube history and turned the phone towards his friend. “I can’t stop watching.”

            “You can’t stop watching _book reviews_?”

            “I can’t stop watching _him_.”

            Nikandros looked skeptical, not that Damen could blame him. He couldn’t deny that he’d dated several blonds in the past – Jokaste being the most long-term of his exes. He supposed this probably seemed like a rebound, or a replacement for her. Nik was just being a good friend.

            “Nik, seriously, just…” He clicked on the _Of Mice and Men_ review that had completely changed his outlook on the novella, handing the phone back to his friend. “Watch this.”

            Nik watched.

            To Damen’s bewilderment, he didn’t appear to be as awestruck as Damen had felt. “What the fuck is he talking about? _Of Mice and Men_ is a classic.” Damen bit his tongue to keep himself from arguing, using the wide array of criticisms that multiple viewings of this review had provided him. “Damen, clue me in. What _specifically_ about this guy do you like?”

            Hadn’t Damen spent the last few days asking himself that very question? He wasn’t sure that he’d ever be able to explain it, at least, not in a way that Nikandros would understand. Damen himself didn’t even understand – not _really_. All he knew was that just a week ago, he’d thought, without exaggeration, that he’d never be happy again. He’d been with Jokaste so long, he’d believed that it would only be a matter of time before she moved in for good (she’d practically lived at his apartment, anyway), and after that? Who knew? When he’d thought of the future, she’d always been a part of it. Nik, for as much as he disliked her, had come to accept that there was no getting rid of her.

            She’d been _it_ for Damen. That had been enough for Nik. It hadn’t kept him from voicing his suspicions, however – and he’d had plenty of suspicions where Jokaste and Kastor were concerned.

            Damen wished that he’d listened. Instead, he’d naïvely thought the best of them both, and where had that gotten him? To the bottom of several pints of Ben & Jerry’s, _that’s_ where.

            Sometimes, he still expected Jokaste to sweep through his door without warning, as had been her wont to do. She had never been an unwelcome sight. She’d lit up the room – sometimes quite literally, given that she was an interior decorator, and Damen’s apartment had been her pet project. After the break-up, he’d trashed almost everything she’d given him, from the ornamental vase on his coffee table to the minimalist painting she’d hung behind the sofa. Even his curtains had been given to him by Jokaste. He’d thrown them out, too, but hadn’t yet gotten around to replacing them.

            He’d kept the throw blanket she’d given him for his birthday. It was still slung over the back of the couch, and he hadn’t had the heart to get rid of it, not least of all because… well, _fuck it_ , it was a comfortable blanket.

            And, as Nikandros continuously reminded him, he couldn’t let a failed relationship dictate his life. And that included his home décor.

            But it wasn’t that simple. She’d been _it_. He’d hardly been able to remember what his life had been like before he’d known her, let alone figure out how to go back to that.

            To make matters worse, his viewers had been pretty fond of Jokaste, too. His comment section had been littered with questions about where she’d been, when she’d be in one of his streams again and, at last, why they’d broken up. For obvious reasons, Damen had kept _that_ under wraps.

            It was bad enough knowing that she’d slept with his brother; the last thing he wanted was for _everyone else_ to know.

            So, he’d spent months in a slump that he was sure he’d never recover from. He’d be a bachelor forever, he’d thought morosely. He might as well begin collecting cats now – even though he was more of a dog person. He had to fit the aesthetic, didn’t he?

            And then… Laurent.

            He remembered thinking, when the first video had ended, that he’d reached a revolutionary moment in his life.

            For as long as he lived, Damen knew that he would be able to separate his life into two distinct pieces: the time _before_ he’d laid eyes on Laurent de Vere, and after.

            He didn’t know what that meant, didn’t know what it said about him that he was so smitten with somebody he hardly knew and whom he’d never spoken with, but it had to mean _something_. It had to mean something that Laurent had put a smile – a real smile – on his face for the first time since the break-up.

            It had to mean something that he’d never wanted anything more than he wanted to be friends with Laurent.

            “Damen?” Nikandros cut into his thoughts, an eyebrow raised expectantly, awaiting an answer to his question.

            “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I just – I _like_ him. I can’t explain it.”

            Nikandros studied him so closely, Damen began to feel like a bug under a microscope. “Well,” he said after a minute or so, his voice laced with uncertainty, “you do seem less – pathetic. I mean, comparatively speaking. You’re lucky I didn’t sign you up for Tinder. Like I said, she wasn’t worth all the moping. I’m glad to see you’ve cheered up.”

            Damen heaved a sigh of relief. He’d known that Nikandros would come around eventually, but it didn’t make him any less grateful when it happened. Contrary to what Nik probably thought, considering all the times Damen had completely ignored his advice in the past, there was nobody in the world whose opinion meant more to Damen than Nik. 

            “I want to talk to him,” he said.

            “So, talk to him.”

            “Have you _seen_ him?”

            “About ten minutes ago, if you recall. You made me watch him trash one of the greatest books of all time.”

            “The point _is_ ,” Damen persisted, “I don’t even know what I would say. Our interests don’t exactly overlap.”

            “How do you know that? He can’t _just_ like books, Damen. That’d be like saying that because you have a gaming channel, video games are the only things you enjoy. That’s dumb.”

            Nikandros made a good point, but it did little to ease the worry in Damen’s chest. “What would you say?” he asked. “I mean, if you were me… how would you go about talking to him without it being awkward? I don’t want to come on too strong, y’know? He probably doesn’t even know who I am. He doesn’t seem like the type to watch gaming channels. I don’t want to be like, ‘ _Hi, I’m Damen. I’m a fan of yours. Let’s be friends.’_ That’d be fucking weird, right? Nik? Nik, are you listening?”

            Nik didn’t answer, and it certainly didn’t seem as though he was listening. In an ironic twist of fate, he was suddenly engrossed in his own phone. Damen was, to say the least, peeved. “Nik? _Seriously_? I’m asking you for advice and you’re – what are you even doing? Playing _Candy Crush_ again?”

            “I got an email notification from your work account,” said Nik.

            “Is now _really_ the time to be doing PR?” He was trying his best to keep the irritation out of his voice

            “You’ll want to see this one.” Nik passed his phone to Damen, whose annoyance melted away as soon as he realized who had sent the email.

 _No fucking way_.

            So, not only did Laurent know who he was, but he’d evidently watched his videos. He must have, right? Who suggested a collaboration with a content creator they weren’t familiar with? Had he noticed all of the shipping comments? Had he found Damen’s channel the same way Damen had found his? He wanted to collaborate, but he wasn’t very specific in the message. Damen wasn’t sure if he was suggesting a collab on his channel, or on Damen’s. If it was the former, Damen would devote himself to reading whatever book Laurent wanted to discuss five times over. He wouldn’t screw up this opportunity.

            If it was the latter, well… maybe he’d finally get to see whether he’d be able to beat Laurent at _Mario Kart_.

* * *

 

            “I can’t _believe_ – how could you–? how did you even get the password to my–? I’m fucking going to _murder_ Jord, don’t think I won’t!”

            Nicaise, entirely unperturbed by his brother’s raging, continued aimlessly flicking through the channels on the television. How were there _so many_ channels and yet, absolutely nothing worth watching?

            “Nicaise, don’t you dare ignore me.”

            “I’m listening.” He held out a bowl of chips to Laurent, who pushed it away and continued his complaining. Nicaise had more than expected this kind of reaction. Therefore, he wasn’t overly concerned about it.

            “I didn’t _want_ to talk to him! You had no right to—.”

            Nicaise sat down his chips. “Fine, whatever. Tell him I was the one who sent the email, say you’re not interested, and keep pining after him for the rest of your fucking life.”

            “I do _not_ pine after—.”

            “But you _won’t_ do that,” Nicaise continued, gazing at his brother pointedly, “because you _do_ want to talk to him. You were scared to make the first move, so I did it for you. You’re welcome.”

            “I was _not_ —.”

            “For fuck’s sake, Laurent! I’m your brother. I can tell when you’re lying to me. More importantly, I can tell when you’re lying to yourself.”

            Laurent fell silent, which Nicaise chose to take as a good sign. “He said he was interested, didn’t he? He’s probably seen your videos. He wouldn’t be accepting an offer to collab if he couldn’t stand you, right?” Laurent frowned. “Well, isn’t that what’s worrying you?” Nicaise persevered. “You think he won’t like you? Or are you just afraid that _you_ won’t like him?”

            Something flickered in his brother’s face at that. It was all the proof he needed.

            “Not everybody in the world is going to disappoint you,” he said softly. He knew that Laurent had heard him, but his brother didn’t acknowledge the words at all. Instead, he took a seat beside Nicaise on the couch. “You’ve been flipping through the channels for ages,” he said. “If you haven’t found anything to watch by now, I don’t think you’re going to.” He reached for the remote control and turned off the T.V.

            Nicaise elbowed him in the side, but not hard enough to hurt. That had never been his aim. “I’m sorry you’re mad at me,” he mumbled, “but I’m not sorry that I did it. I want you to be happy.”

            “I’m not mad at you,” said Laurent, and that was that.

            The pair sat in an amiable silence, Laurent’s eyes fixed on the email that had been taunting him. He kept cracking his knuckles. Nicaise knew what that meant – with a sigh, he reached over and grabbed Laurent’s hand, squeezing his fingers. “I can reply to him if you want me to.”

            “No, I – I can do it. What should I say?”

            Nicaise shrugged. “Give him your Skype. You’ll have to talk about the collab somehow.”

            Damen responded to Laurent’s message in record time with his own Skype username, which Nicaise interpreted as a good sign. Laurent, on the other hand, looked as though he was about to have a heart attack. “He’s already messaged me,” he said faintly. He had a notification from his Skype app.

            “Say something,” Nicaise urged.

            “He uses emoticons,” Laurent noted. He said it dismissively, but Nicaise could tell that he thought it was endearing. _Gross_.

 

 **[8:49]** _hi, this is damen :)_

 **[8:51]** hello

 **[8:51]** _so_

 **[8:52]** _you wanna collab?_

 **[8:52]** apparently

 **[8:53]** _apparently?_  

 **[8:54]** yes

 **[8:54]** _did you want to do it on my channel_

 **[8:55]** _or yours?_

 **[8:55]** _i mean, i’m good with either_

 **[8:56]** _but you’d have to give me time to read the book_

 **[8:57]** I take it you don’t read often?

 **[8:57]** _not really_

 **[8:57]** _i can read, though_

 **[8:58]** I didn’t think you were illiterate.

 **[8:59]** _oh. good._

 **[8:59]** _or we could play mario kart. or something. whatever you want._

 **[9:00]** I’ve never played.

 **[9:00]** But if you’d prefer that, I wouldn’t be opposed.

 **[9:01]** _really?_

 **[9:01]** _i mean, good. that sounds good._

 **[9:02]** good

 **[9:03]** _i think you’re really funny, by the way._

 **[9:04]** You’ve seen my videos?

 **[9:04]** _yes_

 **[9:05]** Oh.

 **[9:06]** Thank you.

 **[9:06]** _np. i’m about to start streaming w/ my friend. i’ll message you again after?_

 **[9:07]** Sure.

 **[9:07]** _t2yl :)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the next chapter: Damen & Laurent iron out the details for their collaboration.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading. As always, a comment/kudos is much appreciated!
> 
> If you'd like to follow me on [Twitter](http://twitter.com/kath_lightfoot), I post updates and snippets from future chapters there. You can also just feel free to DM me to chat, I'm always screaming about Capri or YOI or one of my thousands of other fandoms ^^


	4. IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter: Damen & Laurent iron out the details for their collaboration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to apologize for the wait on this chapter. I ended up getting sick & wasn't able to work on the story. I also want to apologize because I know I said that this chapter was supposed to be the collaboration, but... my initial plan involved their first collaboration being over online multiplayer. I changed my mind, so the collaboration will be almost the entirety of the next chapter. 
> 
> Again, thanks so much for the support on the story! I love y'all! 
> 
> Note: in the texts/Skype messages, _Damen is italics_ , & Laurent/Nicaise are in normal text.  
>  **Warning for an anxiety attack in this chapter.**

            “So?”

            Nicaise peered across the table at Laurent, who was absorbed in his cell phone. _What else was new?_ He’d been messaging Damen almost 24/7 over the past few days, trying to iron out the details on their collaboration. Or, at least, that was what Laurent _claimed_ they were doing. Once, Nicaise had snuck a look at the messages while Laurent was in the bathroom, and it seemed like nothing but (awkward) flirting to him. Damen had some kind of obsession with using emoticons. _Embarrassing_. Even more embarrassing were his brother’s one word responses. To anyone who didn’t know him as well as Nicaise did, he would likely seem disinterested. He wasn’t sure what it said about Damen that he had been undeterred, but he felt that it was probably a good sign.

            Laurent hadn’t seemed to hear him. His cheeks had suddenly gone an uncharacteristically bright shade of pink. Nicaise wished that he knew what Damen had said to elicit such a response. He’d have to snoop on his phone later, if the opportunity arose. “Laurent?” He sipped at his milk, glancing at his brother, whose attention he had finally garnered, over the rim of the cup.

            “Hmm?” Nicaise sat his glass down and gestured towards the cell phone, which had been set aside – if only because Laurent couldn’t cut his meat and type at the same time.

            “Have you two worked out the details, or have you been too busy flirting?”

            Laurent dropped his knife. Nicaise was both relieved and impressed that he didn’t cut himself. “We aren’t _flirting_ ,” Laurent said.

            “It looks like flirting.” The blush, which had been nearly gone, was back with a vengeance. “What did he say to you just now?”

            His brother hesitated, then handed over his phone. He looked as though he were mentally steeling himself for an argument. Still, Nicaise knew that he wouldn’t have given him the phone if he didn’t _want_ to talk about… _whatever_ it was that they needed to talk about. He scrolled up through the last half hours’ worth of messages. Damen, it seemed, had spent five minutes complimenting Laurent’s hair. Nicaise was proud of himself for managing to keep a neutral expression.

            _These two were hopeless._

Those messages, however, weren’t the ones Laurent wanted to talk to him about.

 

 **[6:16]** _so, i was thinking_  
  
**[6:16]** I’m impressed.  
  
**[6:16]** _oh, fuck you :P_  
  
**[6:17]** What were you thinking about?  
  
**[6:17]** _wouldn’t it be easiest to collab if we were_  
  
**[6:17]** _you know?_  
  
**[6:17]** _together?_  
  
**[6:19]** Together?  
  
**[6:20]** _yeah. i mean, online multiplayer is fine but_  
  
**[6:21]** _you’ve never played before_  
  
**[6:21]** _so i was thinking that you could just come over here?_

            It was a thought that Nicaise had had, too. Laurent understandably didn’t have the appropriate set-up for a gaming channel, not to mention that he’d never played a video game in his life – well, unless _Pacman_ at the arcade counted, and he hadn’t been particularly good at _Pacman_. It had seemed obvious to Nicaise that Laurent would have to go to Damen’s. Apparently, it hadn’t seemed obvious to Laurent. He had yet to reply to the message.

            “What’s the big deal?” Nicaise asked, passing the phone back to his brother.

            Laurent shot him a look that clearly said, _you know exactly what the big deal is_. What he said aloud, however, was: “This wasn’t what I expected. Maybe this was a mistake.”

            “You can’t back down now!” Not after all of the trouble to which Nicaise had gone to get them talking.

            He knew what Laurent was doing. He would argue against going, would insist that everything was going to go horribly wrong, would come up with excuse after excuse as to why he couldn’t possibly leave home… but, deep down, he _wanted_ to go. He just wanted Nicaise to reassure him. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

            “What’s the worst that could happen?” Laurent repeated, in a tone that gave Nicaise the impression that he had absolutely no idea and was trying to think of a valid response. “I hardly know him. He could be a – oh, I don’t know…”

            “If you were about to say, ‘mass murderer,’ I am judging you _so hard_ right now. You’re being ridiculous. This is _Damen_. He signs his messages with smiley faces. There’s not a dangerous bone in his body.”

            “Anyone can sign a message with emoticons, Nicaise.”

            As if on cue, his phone lit up with a new message – or _messages_. Damen tended to send several at a time. His thoughts flowed too quickly to be contained in a single message.

 

 **[6:29]** _fuck_  
  
**[6:29]** _i scared you, didn’t i?_  
  
**[6:29]** _forget i suggested it, ok?_  
  
**[6:30]** _i can talk you through setting up online multiplayer_  
  
**[6:30]** _not a problem_  
  
**[6:30]** _or we don’t have to do it at all, if you don’t want to_  
  
**[6:30]** _i’m fine just messaging_  
  
**[6:31]** _y’know, just being friends_  
  
**[6:31]** _we are friends, right?_  
  
**[6:31]** _i hope we’re friends :)_  
  
**[6:32]** _laurent?_  
  
**[6:33]** _you’re not mad, are you? :/_

            Nicaise blinked. “He’s eager.”

            “He’s nice,” said Laurent. Nicaise thought it was strange, the way Damen made Laurent forget his words. Words were his brother’s defense, his most trustworthy weapon. He could wield them with precision. It was different with Damen. When Laurent spoke of Damen, his words fell away until he was left with nothing but the basest of adjectives. _Nice_. He wondered what words Laurent had _wanted_ to use and had been unable to string together.

            Laurent peered down at the screen, the blush rising back into his cheeks. “He’s really nice,” he said faintly.

* * *

           “He’s probably just busy,” Nikandros was saying. Damen had ceased listening to him five minutes ago in favor of pacing his living room.

            He shouldn’t have suggested it. No wonder Laurent had stopped answering him. They’d only known each other for a few _days_ , during which time Damen had (according to Nikandros) flirted with Laurent relentlessly. Damen thought that was a bit of an exaggeration, although… he tended to flirt without realizing. Come to think of it, he’d waxed poetic about Laurent’s hair a little while ago…

            Still, it wasn’t as though Laurent hadn’t been flirting with him, too. At least, Damen thought he was flirting. He never could tell for certain when it came to Laurent. To most people, what Damen had chosen to interpret as good-natured teasing would seem like insults – Laurent’s response to Damen’s ‘ _I was thinking_ ’ message earlier, for example. If his videos were anything to go on, Laurent thought about his words very carefully. Damen had watched him decimate novels in seconds flat with nothing but a scathing insult and an ill-tempered look. He felt that, if Laurent’s aim was to truly offend him, he would know.

            Besides, this was Laurent’s idea in the first place. He was the one to contact Damen. Why go to the effort if he didn’t _like_ Damen? Sure, a collaboration between the two of them would be certain to get a ridiculous amount of views, but Laurent didn’t seem the type of person who would suffer through a collaboration with somebody he couldn’t stand.

            Sometimes (and maybe it was just wishful thinking), Damen had the feeling that Laurent liked him just as much as Damen liked Laurent. The other night, for example, Laurent had casually slipped, ‘ _I like the new shades_ ,’ into their conversation. Damen hadn’t mentioned his new sunglasses to Laurent – why would he? But he _had_ posted a picture to his Instagram. Funny thing was, he knew for a fact that Laurent didn’t follow him on any of his social media accounts. He wasn’t sure what to make of that. He thought, occasionally, that he had Laurent de Vere figured out; then, something happened to confuse him all over again.

            God, what on earth had possessed him to invite Laurent over? It hadn’t been his initial plan, but then he’d begun thinking about the – well, the _logistics_ of it. He already had the perfect set-up. Nik joined him for recordings and streams all the time. It seemed like more of a hassle on Laurent’s part to try to collaborate from home, and the Nintendo servers were sketchy at even the best of times. The chances of something going wrong were fairly high, and Laurent had made it perfectly clear that a miserable attempt at _Pacman_ had been his last adventure in gaming. Wouldn’t it be easier if he was physically _there_ to help Laurent if he had any trouble?

            “Damen,” Nikandros interrupted his thoughts. “You’re overreacting.”

            “I don’t think I am.”

            Before Nik could say anything else, Damen’s phone chimed and he nearly tripped over his own feet in his rush to get to it.

 

 **[6:50]** I’m not mad.  
  
**[6:50]** _you’re not?_  
  
**[6:51]** _good. i’m glad._  
  
**[6:51]** Yes.

 **[6:52]** _yes?_  
  
**[6:52]** We’re friends.  
  
**[6:53]** _oh. great :D_  
  
**[6:54]** Do you have a minute?  
  
**[6:54]** I thought we could get in a call.

* * *

            No sooner had he sent the words ‘ _get in a call_ ’ but Damen was calling him. “Eager,” Nicaise said, snorting. Laurent rolled his eyes and answered, trying to swallow down his nerves. This was the first time they’d spoken over video-call. If Damen was anxious, too, he didn’t show it. He was all smiles, waving enthusiastically at Laurent, who found that he couldn’t help but smile back.

            “Hey! Nik, say hello!” Damen tilted his phone so Laurent was able to see Nikandros, lounging on the sofa beside him. He looked as interested in talking to Laurent as Laurent was in talking to him – that is to say, not at all.

            “Hi.” Nik tossed up a hand in greeting before returning his attention to his own cell phone.

            “Hi,” Laurent replied dryly. Nicaise, in the background, clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter. “Anyway, I – thought we should talk about your suggestion.” Damen looked nervous, now. It made Laurent feel a little guilty for having ignored his messages for so long.

            “If you don’t want to come,” said Damen hurriedly, “that’s fine. I mean it. I just – see, I thought that it would be easiest? Since you don’t know what you’re doing, and you don’t really have a gaming set-up? Or, I mean, we could scratch the gaming idea entirely. I can read. I don’t mind reading.”

            “I haven’t seen you read a book since high school,” Laurent heard Nikandros mutter. Damen elbowed him in the side. If he’d tried to conceal the action from the camera’s view, he’d done a poor job.

            “No, it’s… it’s fine,” Laurent said. “I just – I wasn’t expecting you to suggest it.” That was an understatement. He wasn’t sure what he _had_ expected – the two of them to continue on forever the way they’d been? Possibly. There was a safety in it. There were no consequences. Damen could tell him that he was beautiful – and he _had_ , in not so many words – and Laurent could smile and blush, and Damen would be none the wiser. Likewise, Laurent could pay Damen compliments and never have to know how they were received. He could imagine that Damen was lying awake at night smiling at his ceiling and wondering if Laurent was doing the same.

            (He was. Always.)

            This was different. There was no safety net in face-to-face interactions. There was no pretending, no imagining. If he smiled, Damen would know. If he laughed, Damen would know. If he was terrified out of his fucking mind, as he was right now, Damen would know. Laurent didn’t want Damen to know.

            There was a reason Jord was his only friend. He tended to scare everyone else away with his brusqueness and his sarcasm and his general inability to act like a normal human being. Nicaise disagreed. He often told him that he scared people away on purpose, that he was afraid to get too close to anyone.

            Maybe he was right. Or, maybe, he was _half_ right. Laurent wasn’t afraid of getting close to Damen. He was afraid of getting close to Damen and then messing it up.

            Over text messaging, there was still a sense of non-reality to all of this. If Damen stopped talking to him tomorrow, it would hurt, but he would get over it. Maybe not in a day, or a week, or a month – but eventually, it would fade and seem like little more than a dream. He would tell himself that it made no sense to miss somebody he’d hardly known, and after a time, he would learn to believe it.

            Now it was real. He could see Damen, and Damen could see him. Damen had smiled at him, had been glad to see him – and Laurent couldn’t help but think that it wouldn’t last. Things had changed. Now, when Damen inevitably tired of him, Laurent would be able to see it happening. There would be no more hiding behind a screen, protecting himself with carefully chosen words. Over texting, Laurent could keep himself from saying something wrong. He had the power to recall the words before he sent them.

            In real life, he had no such talent. It didn’t matter when it came to Nicaise. Nicaise _knew_ him. There was very little he could say to his brother that would genuinely hurt his feelings. Damen, however…

            Yes, when this friendship or flirtation or _whatever_ it was eventually ran its course, Laurent knew that it would be his fault. He wasn’t so proud that he couldn’t admit it to himself: he was scared. He was scared because he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been as happy as Damen was capable of making him.

            (That was a lie; he’d been thirteen.)

            He was scared because he didn’t want to lose this. He was scared because he didn’t want to be the _reason_ he lost it. _Not everybody in the world is going to disappoint you_ , Nicaise had said. He wasn’t sure that ‘everybody’ included himself.

            He constantly disappointed himself.

            “It’s fine,” he said again. He wasn’t sure if he was trying to reassure Damen, or himself. “I’m fine.” Very rarely had he felt less fine. He was feeling more anxious with each second that passed.

            “You don’t look fine.” Damen looked concerned, the corners of his mouth curved downward, and Laurent wondered just how pale his face had become. He glanced sidelong at Nicaise, who had ceased his laughter in favor of staring at Laurent worriedly. Nicaise rose, moving to the chair beside his, and wrapped his hand around Laurent’s free one.

            Laurent was glad for the contact. It was one of the few things that could help to calm him down when he got this way.

            He decided that he didn’t like when Damen frowned. He liked it even less when _he_ was the cause. This was what he’d been afraid of – they’d spoken to each other for less than five minutes, and he’d already upset Damen.

            “Look,” Damen was saying, “if you don’t want to come and stay with me, you don’t have to. I’m serious, okay? I’m not mad.” His voice sounded very far away, as though heard from underwater. Laurent thought idly that he’d never learned to swim.  

            Everything was beginning to seem a little muddled. He wanted to repeat that he was fine, but he couldn’t seem to find the words. He could hear Nicaise addressing Damen: “Give me a few minutes with him, okay? I’ll call you right back.” Nicaise must have taken the phone; Laurent didn’t think he was holding it anymore.

            If Damen had responded, Laurent hadn’t heard him. The only thing he was aware of was Nicaise’s hand squeezing his. He squeezed back. It made him feel a little better – but only just. He forced himself to focus on his brother’s face. He looked concerned, but not afraid. He didn’t think that Nicaise was ever afraid.

            “Laurent?” He zeroed in on his name, latched onto his brother’s voice. “It’s going to be okay. Alright? Breathe.” Nicaise drew in a breath, pressing Laurent’s hand as he exhaled. Laurent did as he was told, matching his breaths to his brother’s until he no longer felt as though he were suffocating. They sat quietly, still holding hands, for a few minutes longer. When he was sure it was safe to do so, Nicaise let go of Laurent’s hand and hugged him, instead.

            Nicaise was used to dealing with him when he was like this; Laurent hated it. He hated feeling as though his brother was taking care of _him_ , instead of the other way around. That was the way it was supposed to be.

            He knew that if he said it aloud, Nicaise would tell him to get the fuck over himself and accept help when it was offered to him. Sometimes, he thought that Nicaise was smarter than him. He thought that Nicaise probably knew him better than he knew himself.

            “Sorry,” he muttered. Nicaise made a disgruntled sound, as if to say that Laurent didn’t need to apologize.

            “Do you want me to call him back? You’ll be alright?”

            Laurent didn’t answer, because he wasn’t sure. He wondered what Damen must think of him. He wondered if Damen would even want to talk to him, after seeing him react so poorly to a harmless suggestion.

            Nicaise sighed. “Whatever you’re so worried about… it’s not going to happen. I know it won’t. Did you see the way he was looking at you? I’m pretty sure you could stab that guy in the throat and he’d thank you for it.”

            Laurent rolled his eyes. Nicaise was more optimistic than he was, which was saying something, because Nicaise was a proper pessimist. “You can tell me that I’m being an idiot. It won’t hurt my feelings.”

            “You’re not being an idiot.” He must have really meant it, because Nicaise never passed up the opportunity to tell Laurent when he was being stupid. “I don’t blame you for being scared. I just – I _know_ you. Whatever you’ve convinced yourself is going to happen is fifty times worse than anything that actually _could_ happen.”

            Laurent wanted to argue, but couldn’t find the energy. “Maybe I should tell him to forget about the collab altogether.”

            “Is that what you really want,” asked Nicaise doubtfully, “or are you just running away?” 

* * *

 

 **[7:15]** Hi, this is Nicaise.  
  
**[7:16]** _is he ok??_  
  
**[7:16]** _i freaked him out, didn’t i?_  
  
**[7:16]** He’s fine.  
  
**[7:17]** You didn’t freak him out.  
  
**[7:17]** He freaked himself out. He overthinks.  
  
**[7:18]** _i’ve noticed._  
  
**[7:19]** _if he doesn’t want to do the video, he doesn’t have to_.  
  
**[7:19]** Can I be honest for a sec?  
  
**[7:20]** _shoot_  
  
**[7:21]** I sent you the email.  
  
**[7:22]** _that_  
  
**[7:22]** _explains so much_  
  
**[7:23]** Don’t get me wrong.  
  
**[7:24]** He wanted to talk to you.  
  
**[7:24]** He’s just not a great people person. He needed the push.  
  
**[7:25]** _to reiterate_  
  
**[7:25]** _he doesn’t have to do the video_  
  
**[7:26]** _we can just be friends_  
  
**[7:27]** _assuming he still wants to be_  
  
**[7:27]** _why isn’t he talking to me? you said he’s ok?_  
  
**[7:28]** He’s doing the dishes. Needed a distraction.  
  
**[7:29]** He wants to do the video.  
  
**[7:29]** You don’t mind if I come, do you?  
  
**[7:30]** _will it make him happy?_  
  
**[7:30]** If he leaves me here, he’ll spend the entire week worrying.  
  
**[7:30]** _sure. come along. i have room._  
  
**[7:31]** Thanks. I’ll have him call you back in a bit.  
  
**[7:31]** And Damen?  
  
**[7:32]** _?_  
  
**[7:32]** Hurt my brother and I’ll fucking kill you.

* * *

 

            “Nice kid,” said Nikandros, eying the messages over Damen’s shoulder. “Dude, are you sure this is a good idea? You met this guy, what? Three days ago? And now he’s coming to stay with you, _and_ he’s bringing his little brother? What’s next, meeting the future in-laws?”

            Damen rolled his eyes. “He _is_ a nice kid.” He chose to ignore the rest of what Nik had said. He knew how crazy all of this was. He knew that it didn’t make any sense that he felt so strongly for someone he hardly knew. He just… didn’t care. “I’d kill for a brother like him.” It was endearing, how much effort Nicaise had put into helping them meet. _Note to self: give Nicaise a high five when you see him_.

            (It made his heart warm, knowing for a _fact_ that Laurent had apparently been as smitten with Damen as Damen had been with him.)

            “Well, it’d be pretty fucking hard to have a worse brother than yours.”

            “Thanks for the reminder.”

 

 **[7:34]** _i’d expect nothing less._

 

            A few minutes later, he received another Skype call from Laurent. The blond looked significantly calmer than he had before. Never underestimate the power of doing the dishes, Damen supposed.

            “I’m sorry for earlier.” It was the first thing out of his mouth, without so much as a _hello_. Damen shook his head.

            “Don’t be. Your brother talked to me.”

            “I know. I hope he didn’t bother you.”

            “Of course not. I’m glad you’re alright.”

            A silence fell between them, but it wasn’t awkward. Laurent’s cheeks had taken on a faint tinge of pink. It was a struggle for Damen to contain his delight. “I don’t – have many friends.” Judging by the look on his face, that wasn’t what Laurent had meant to say, but it didn’t make it any less true. “I was nervous. I… panicked. It wasn’t your fault.”

            “Nicaise said that you still wanted to do the video?”

            Laurent was quiet for so long that Damen wondered if he hadn’t heard. “Yes,” he said finally. “His spring break starts on Saturday, and lasts for a week. Would that be alright? We don’t have to stay for the entire week, of course. I wouldn’t want to impose.”

            “You wouldn’t be imposing. Things have been quiet around here, since…”

            “Jokaste?”

            When Damen met Laurent’s eyes, he could tell that Laurent hadn’t meant to say that aloud. He looked positively furious with himself for having mentioned her name. Damen couldn’t understand why. It was no secret that they’d broken up. “Yeah. It’ll be good to have a distraction. For you, too, I think?”

            Laurent’s brow furrowed. “For me?”

            “I don’t know. You always seem tense, I guess. Anxious.” He wondered what Laurent would say if he told him that he’d pinpointed quite a few of his nervous habits. He wondered what he’d say if he told him that he could provide timestamps for some of them. ‘ _At 2:36 in your_ Dracula _review, you twirl a lock of hair around your finger for so long that it stays curled through the rest of the video_.’ He wondered what Laurent would say if he told him that he’d lain awake one night at three in the morning thinking about how _nice_ that curl had looked in Laurent’s hair. “You need a break.”

            “Maybe I do,” Laurent agreed. He smiled.

            Damen wondered what Laurent would say if he told him that he’d never seen anything more beautiful than his smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the next chapter: Damen & Laurent collaborate on Damen's channel. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading. As always, a comment/kudos is much appreciated!
> 
> If you'd like to follow me on [Twitter](http://twitter.com/kath_lightfoot), I post updates and snippets from future chapters there. You can also just feel free to DM me to chat, I'm always screaming about Capri or YOI or one of my thousands of other fandoms ^^


	5. V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Laurent and Damen collaborate, with surprising results.
> 
>  **WARNING:** for references to the Regent, although nothing is explicitly stated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sincerest apologies for the _long_ wait for this chapter, and for the fact that it's a little shorter than usual. I'm in my final year of university and this past semester was a bit hectic. Next semester will be easier, so I'll have more time to write and finally finish this story. There will probably be about five chapters left, at the most. Thanks so much to everyone who's stuck with me, and asked me about the story on my Tumblr. 
> 
> Happy New Year, everyone!
> 
> Yet again, I would like to thank Pigmi on Tumblr for the lovely fanart, which you can find [here](http://pigmi.tumblr.com/post/161226189866).

            Laurent had been a nervous wreck for the entire drive, something Nicaise had anticipated. It was why he’d practically begged Jord to tag along. He didn’t particularly trust his brother behind the wheel of a steel death-trap when he was like this, and Laurent had been too beside himself with worry to object to Jord’s presence.

            Nicaise had had the decency to run it by Damen first, at least. _The more the merrier_ , Damen had said. Nicaise wasn’t sure if he’d acquiesced so easily because he was just _that_ desperate to see Laurent, or if it was simply his nature to be so easy-going. Either way, Jord had agreed to come, if only because he shared Nicaise’s concern that a preoccupied Laurent might drive the car directly into a ravine. Or a tree. Or a building.

            It’d taken roughly five hours to reach Damen’s. They’d been sitting in his driveway for about twenty minutes. If he knew they were there, he hadn’t come outside to greet them. It was for the best. Maybe he knew that – maybe he was just giving Laurent some space. “Are you alright?” Jord asked for the umpteenth time. “We can’t just sit here forever.”

            “Give me a minute,” said Laurent.

            “That’s what you said last time.”

            “And I need another minute,” he retorted, but there was no bite in the words. Jord leaned back against the headrest and groaned. Nicaise was tempted to do the same, but antagonizing his brother wasn’t the best course of action.

            “It’s going to be fine,” he said, reaching over to wrap a hand around Laurent’s. He gave it a squeeze. After a moment, Laurent squeezed back. That was a good sign. “He’s really excited to see you. You _know_ that. There’s nothing to be worried about, alright?”

            “I suppose so.” He didn’t sound completely sure, but it was the most optimistic thing he’d said thus far, so Nicaise was considering it a victory.

            “Great,” said Jord, trying his hardest not to look as irritated as he sounded. Jord not being the greatest actor, the effort failed. “Can we get out of the car now?”

* * *

 

            “Why is he just sitting in your driveway?”

            Damen shrugged. Knowing Laurent (and Damen felt that he _did_ know him), he was just as nervous as he was. Maybe he was having second thoughts. Damen hoped that wasn’t the case. If anything, he hoped that Laurent was just – trying to relax, trying to save face. He remembered what had happened the first time they’d video-called on Skype. If he just gave Laurent a bit of space, let him calm himself down… everything would be fine, wouldn’t it?

            He knew that Laurent wanted to spend the week with him. Nicaise had made that explicit. He sighed. The more he thought about all of this, the more anxious _he_ became. He liked Laurent more than he probably should have, considering that they’d only been speaking for about a week, and this was the first time they’d be meeting in person.

He didn’t think that anything could change the way he felt about Laurent. That didn’t mean that Laurent would feel the same. There was every possibility that he’d decide that he didn’t like Damen, after all. He’d leave early, he’d never speak to Damen again, and just like that – _poof_.

            The dream would vanish.

            “Are you sure about this?” Nikandros was saying, still peering out the window. “You just met him, Damen. You just met him, and you’ve invited him over. For a week. With his _little brother_ and his best friend. This is just… It’s rushing things, don’t you think?”

            A month ago, before he’d heard of Laurent de Vere, Damen would have agreed.

            “If I wasn’t sure,” said Damen, “I wouldn’t have done it. Besides, he’s here. Even if I was having second thoughts, it’s kind of late for that.”

            Nikandros sighed, but even he couldn’t argue with that logic. A comfortable silence fell between them. Damen tried to distract himself by starting a game of _Candy Crush_.

            “He’s getting out of his car,” Nikandros said suddenly.

            By the time he’d turned to face Damen, his friend was already at the door.

* * *

            Jord was Laurent’s best friend by… default.

            They’d never been particularly close, but then again, Laurent had never been particularly close to anybody who wasn’t Auguste or Nicaise. He’d kept to himself, for the most part. Most of their classmates had kept their distance; there was no use trying to befriend someone who clearly wanted to be left alone.

            Jord had been the exception.

            It hadn’t mattered to Jord that Laurent never wanted to meet up with him outside of school, or that he’d sometimes ignore him for weeks at a time. Jord had been something of a loner, himself. Usually, he was perfectly content spending time on his own. Still, he’d worried about Laurent. There was something – _off._ Something wrong. It wasn’t that Laurent _liked_ being alone, Jord had realized. It was that he was afraid of getting close to anyone.

            He was afraid to _trust_ anyone.

            He’d never pried when Laurent arrived late to class, looking pale and tired. Instead, he’d offered him sympathetic smiles, or pats on the back, telling him wordlessly that if he wanted to tell him what was wrong, he could. Jord wouldn’t judge him, or laugh, or repeat it to anyone else.

            Once, Laurent had almost told him.

            He’d found him after the final bell, Jord remembered. He’d never seen Laurent like that before – deathly pale, shaking like a leaf. When he’d spoken (“Jord… I don’t – I don’t know what to do…”), his voice had quivered, as though it was taking all of his self-control not to _cry_. The thought of Laurent crying had terrified him.

            And then Aimeric was there, all smiles, and the moment was gone. Laurent had resumed his mask, forced himself to stop trembling. He’d made some excuse about having to speak to a teacher, and hurried away. Jord had almost followed, but Aimeric was suddenly in his arms, giggling into his chest, asking if he wanted to go out for ice cream – and Jord had forgotten, _stupidly_ , all about Laurent.

            And then, before the end of their senior year, Aimeric was gone.

            That had been the day Laurent had finally told him everything. Jord remembered Laurent appearing on his doorstep, remembered seeing his own misery mirrored on Laurent’s face. Jord hadn’t wanted to talk to anyone, but Laurent had refused to leave until Jord heard him out.

            The aftermath of that conversation – repeated that very night to Jord’s father, a lawyer – had been the trial that sent Laurent’s uncle to prison, and gave him custody of Nicaise. There was a loyalty between them, Laurent and Jord. A mutual trust, that couldn’t be easily broken.

            Nicaise knew his brother better than anyone. That wasn’t up for debate. Jord, however, liked to think that he was the runner-up.

            Maybe that was why, as he watched Damen encompass Laurent in a tight hug, Jord found himself completely dumbstruck. He winced, waiting for the inevitable – waiting for Laurent to wrench himself out of Damen’s arms, for _this_ to be his breaking point, for him to get right back into the car and demand they drive home. That wasn’t what happened.

            Laurent relaxed into the embrace as though he’d been hugging Damen Akielos for years.

* * *

            “Do you have any Fruit Loops?”

            “Yeah, I think so. Go wild, kid.” Damen rolled his eyes. Nicaise was off like a shot; he hadn’t eaten since they’d left the house that morning.

            “If you’re not careful,” Laurent said to Damen, “he’ll eat you out of house and home.” Damen laughed.

            “He can eat whatever he wants. I owe him.” At Laurent’s puzzled expression, he clarified: “You wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t emailed me.”

            “Hey, I helped,” said Jord. He and Nikandros were commiserating together over a game of _Mario Kart_. They both felt like third wheels; Damen and Laurent had been making heart eyes at one another for the past two hours. “I had to hack him into Laurent’s computer.”

            Laurent snorted. “It’s not hacking if you _know_ the password.”

            “Whatever, I still helped.”

            Nicaise returned from the kitchen with a bowl of Fruit Loops mixed with Captain Crunch. His brother peered into the bowl and grimaced. “You need to watch the sugar.”

            “Don’t pretend that you wouldn’t _love_ to try this.”

            Laurent couldn’t deny that, but he had to at least try to behave like a responsible adult. Nicaise plopped down onto the sofa between Laurent and Damen, leaning into his brother’s side. “So, are you guys going to do a stream tonight?” Laurent shrugged.

            “We could,” Damen answered, “if you wanted to. Or we could just do some practice rounds, since you’ve never played.” Laurent opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by a string of curses issuing from in front of the television.

            “This game is fucking rigged!” Nikandros spat, tossing his controller down. A blue shell had taken him out, helping Jord to victory at the last moment. “He doesn’t need to practice. There’s no skill involved in this game. It’s _fucking rigged_.”

            “He doesn’t need to practice,” Nicaise corrected him, “because he’s going to win, anyway. Damen always gets his ass kicked.” _I take it back,_ Nikandros would later say to Damen. _The kid is alright_.

            “I do not,” said Damen, pouting.

            “Yes, you do,” Laurent replied, a smile twitching on his lips. Damen didn’t argue. For the first time, he was almost _hopeful_ that he would lose a game of _Mario Kart_. He was willing to lose, if it meant seeing more of Laurent’s smiles.

* * *

 

            Laurent and Damen had banished the others from the room during their stream, so 8 p.m. found Nikandros, Jord, and Nicaise huddled around Nikandros’ laptop in Damen’s kitchen. “I bet ten bucks Laurent kicks his ass,” said Nicaise.

            “You don’t even _have_ ten bucks,” Jord pointed out. Nicaise shrugged. It didn’t matter – he was confident that Laurent was going to win.

            “No use betting, kid,” said Nikandros. “I think everyone here agrees that Laurent’s going to kick his ass. Damen is a lot of things, but a _Mario Kart_ master, he is not.” Besides, he had a sneaking suspicion that if things turned sour for Laurent, Damen would throw the race. He’d never seen his best friend so besotted with anyone in all the time he’d known him.

            Nicaise poured himself another bowl of his Fruit Loops and Captain Crunch concoction, despite Jord’s protests. “I’m betting ten bucks that they end up making out on stream,” said Nikandros. Nicaise and Jord exchanged looks, before bursting into laughter.

            “You don’t know my brother very well, do you? That’s like… the _least_ likely thing that could happen.”

            “How do you figure? At the rate this relationship is going, they’ll be engaged by Tuesday.”

            Nicaise pulled a face. He was about to say that there was _no way in hell_ that either of Nikandros’ propositions were going to happen, but before he could, the stream began and the trio immediately quieted, their eyes glued to the screen.

 

**[LIVE] MARIO KART 8 DELUXE W/ DAKIELOSGAMING FT. LAURENT DE VERE**

            No sooner had Damen introduced Laurent than a stream of comments flooded the chat: _‘OMG THEY KNOW EACH OTHER!!’ ‘Welp, I ship it.’ ‘I’ll donate $50 if you make out.’_

Nikandros heaved a sigh. “This is going to be a fun stream to moderate,” he said, clicking through to remove some of the lewder comments.

            “ _I offered to collab on Laurent’s channel,”_ Damen was saying, “ _but, I mean… I would have had to read a book.”_

 _“He had to assure me that he was, in fact, literate,”_ said Laurent.

            “ _We’re getting a superchat,”_ said Damen suddenly. Nikandros had noticed the message first, and was already groaning. “ _Thanks for the $25 donation.”_ It wasn’t uncommon for his subscribers to donate, but they usually waited until he’d actually – well, done something. They’d been live for less than two minutes. “ _You asked, uh…”_ His cheeks flushed. Laurent, when he glanced at the message, followed suit. “ _Are you two dating?”_

            It was obvious from the expressions on their faces that neither of them knew how to answer. Technically speaking, no. They were friends. That was the word they’d chosen to describe whatever this was between them, but they both knew that it wasn’t an entirely accurate description.

            It wasn’t _friendship_ that left Damen lying awake at night, thinking about the way Laurent played with his hair. It wasn’t _friendship_ that made Laurent blush every time he thought about the sweet things Damen had said to him over Skype, and it certainly wasn’t _friendship_ that had made Damen say those things in the first place.

            The chat exploded.

            _‘Is that a yes?!’ ‘That’s definitely a yes, look at their faces!’ ‘How long have you been dating?’ ‘Laurent doesn’t even follow him on Twitter, wtf?’ ‘KISS KISS KISS.’ ‘Well, Damen obviously has a type.’ ‘This is the greatest day of my life. Let it be known that I shipped Lamen before it was canon.’_

Nicaise read the chat with growing disgust. “Fangirls are fucking weird.”

            “You said it, kid.”

            “How were people ‘shipping’ this before they even met? How does that even work?” asked Jord.

            On stream, it was Laurent who stepped up to the plate to (attempt to) do damage control. “ _We aren’t – **really**. I mean, not officially.”_

            “ _Right,”_ said Damen. “ _This is the first time we’ve met. I mean, I wouldn’t… be against it, if he wanted to.”_

 _“Right,”_ agreed Laurent, vehemently nodding. “ _If he wanted to, I’d – I’d be completely fine with that.”_

            “Oh my God,” said Nikandros.

            “Did they just…?”

            “The best part of this,” said Nicaise, shaking his head, “is that neither of them realize what just happened.” Sure enough, as the chat sped by with celebratory comments, Damen and Laurent didn’t seem to notice. They were staunchly trying to ease the tension by beginning the race.

            Laurent chose to race as Princess Peach, if only because she was blonde. Damen, as usual, played as Mario. Nicaise resisted the urge to bang his head against the wall. The comments were already flooding in: _‘Awe, that’s so cute, they’re playing as Peach and Mario!’ ‘OTP goals.’_ ‘ _Your OTP could never.’_

“They’re trending on Twitter,” said Jord, holding up his phone. The fifth top trend in the USA was #Lamen.

            “…incredible.”

            Jord and Nicaise were warier than Nikandros by far. There was no telling how Laurent was going to react to the night’s events.

            “ _Are you sure you’ve never played this?”_ Damen asked, frowning. Laurent had taken the lead with ease, just as Nicaise had expected. His brother may have been a _Mario Kart_ virgin, but he’d watched enough of Damen’s videos to gain a basic understanding of how to navigate each course. Not to mention his naturally competitive nature. If he wanted to win, he would find a way. “ _Are you hustling me?”_

            Laurent let out an undignified snort. “ _Cross my heart, this is my first time playing this game.”_

            Nicaise and Jord were choosing to ignore the comments. Nikandros was having a field day with them. “‘ _Their first lovers’ spat!’”_ he read aloud dramatically. “Wow, can you believe that we were present for this momentous occasion? ‘ _Is Nicaise there? Bring Nicaise in! He’s the cutest!’_ You have fans, kiddo.”

            “Why do you sound so surprised?” said Nicaise, narrowing his eyes. “If I go in there, it’ll only make things worse.” He remembered that comment on Laurent’s fairy tales review: ‘ _Show of hands: who wants to see Laurent and Damen co-parent Nicaise?’_

            On stream, Damen was groaning. “ _I’m cursed. That’s the only explanation for why I can’t win a fucking Mario Kart race. I pissed off the gaming gods and now I’m doomed to lose until the end of time.”_

 _“Don’t be dramatic,”_ said Laurent, laughing. He leaned into Damen, nudging him affectionately with his elbow. “ _You can try to kick my ass in the next race. ‘Try’ being the key word, seeing as you’re cursed and all.”_

            Jord was open-mouthed. “You… weren’t kidding,” he said to Nicaise. “He’s completely gone for Damen. I’ve never seen him act like this before. What the fuck? Are we in the Twilight Zone, or…?”

            Nicaise rolled his eyes. “He made you sit in the driveway for twenty minutes because he was nervous. That didn’t tip you off?”

            “ _Throw me a bone here,”_ said Damen. He looked visibly happier, now that Laurent was pressed against his side. At the rate things were going, Nicaise was starting to worry that he and Jord were going to end up owing Nikandros ten dollars. “ _Let me win one race. Just one. Let me have my dignity.”_

_“You’ll have lost your dignity if I just hand you the victory.”_

_“Fair enough.”_

Nicaise was scrolling through the Twitter tag. “People are doing cap-by-cap analyses of the stream,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. “The stream isn’t even over yet, but – _look_.” He held up his phone, letting the others see the post in question. “Apparently, the way Damen was looking at Laurent here indicates that – okay, never mind, I wish I hadn’t read that. That mental image is going to be burned into my brain for eternity.”

            “ _Did you just hit me with a shell?”_ Laurent was saying. He sounded genuinely betrayed. “ _I didn’t hit you with a shell. What the fuck?”_

            “ _All’s fair in love and war,”_ returned Damen, much to the delight of the chat. Nikandros had long since given up on trying to moderate. It was moving too fast for him to keep track of the comments. Laurent’s cheeks were tinged pink; he didn’t say anything else.

            Looking utterly shell-shocked, Jord grabbed his wallet and passed Nikandros a ten. “They might not be making out,” he said, “but this is _way_ more than I was expecting.” They’d started dating on stream (unknowingly, like morons), now they were flirting – _Laurent de Vere was flirting_ – and at that point, Jord wouldn’t be surprised if one of them got a kiss in before the night was out.

            The second race ended, unsurprisingly, with another victory for Laurent.

            “ _Are you fucking kidding me?”_

            “ _What can I say? You’re cursed.”_

            Laurent was laughing again and, try as he might, in the face of Laurent’s smile, Damen couldn’t help but smile back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the next chapter: Damen and Laurent deal with the results of their first livestream.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading, and as always, a comment/kudos is greatly appreciated!
> 
> You can follow me on Twitter [here](https://twitter.com/kath_lightfoot) and Tumblr [here](http://dreamimpcssiblethings.tumblr.com). Feel free to shoot me a message anytime!


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